


Come and Hide My Secrets

by polasteroids



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 18th Century, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Arranged Marriage, Castles, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Forbidden Love, M/M, duchess - Freeform, duke - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 09:35:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17465015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polasteroids/pseuds/polasteroids
Summary: In his own little world that tries to combine both class and sass, Louis Tomlinson finds himself being wildly independent. It's hard to keep that up though when you're the heir to the title of Duke and the best friend you've had since childhood is arranged to rule alongside you as your husband.Through a flurry of ballgowns and heels, stolen kisses and lingering glances, dominating alphas and "submissive" omegas, Louis finds himself at the center of everything he's never wanted, yet he's never wanted anything or anyone more in his life than he does a certain Lord he's not arranged to marry and not allowed to have.





	1. Betrothed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and his secrets cultivate in a ball and a meeting with two new visitors of nobility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y’all. I really hope you enjoy this new story of mine- it’s not like anything I’ve ever written, and it’s a bit silly sometimes, but I wouldn’t put it out if I didn’t think it was worthwhile.   
> Phia

'His Lord.’

The title had brought me nothing but fake smiles and envy, while the holders of which carefully folded classily into clean words and appropriate actions to my face, then turned into slimy snakes of hurt behind my back.

My title was that of family value, of tradition. It held no value to me. Did my family’s wealth hold value to me? Hold a place in my heart? I’d be a ghastly liar if I said not. But I would gladly lose my title one hundred times over than be forced to one more dastardly ball my parents threw in our banquet hall. I’d do it with a smile on my lips and a look of gratefulness on my face, because after all, losing my title wasn’t something I exactly perceived as ‘losing.’ It was more a giving up of something you’d somehow found yourself with.

Going back to the balls, however; while my title was a nuisance, something I did not deserve nor seek out to possess, balls were the subject of all the hate my heart could muster. I detested shoving my ribs together as I attempted to breathe while in a corset, I loathed the pinchy shoes that had me waddling around at the end of the night as though I was inhabited by some deranged bird. And most ferociously, most undeniably, I could not stand the courting.

I had to look away each time I espied an omega nowhere near adulthood being forced to dance and exchange scared, involuntary conversation with a bachelor three times their age that their father deemed worthy. ‘Worthy’ usually translated to ‘money and property possessing.’ The sight broke my heart each time I witnessed it. And it broke my heart even more excruciatingly every time it was Zayn, just like it was tonight.

I’d been talking with my sisters and their omega friends, my skirt and underskirts and petticoats and undergarments brushing my legs with each inch I shifted. Penelope had cracked a joke and as I laughed, something gnawed at the back of my brain. Someone was missing.

It hit me the way Jared- one of our stablehands who’d long gone away to the military- had been kicked in the chest by Father’s thoroughbred when he was messing about him in the stables: fast and unavoidable. I whirled around, teetering back on my heels. I vaguely noticed a hand clutching my arm, keeping me upright with a hushed, “ _Louis_ ,” but my attention was elsewhere. It was on the dance floor, watching my best friend be twirled through a waltz he very clearly was not participating in voluntarily. Perhaps in a different world he would have, but never with the partner he was now.

The alpha was a stout, balding older ‘gentleman,’ as his wealth demanded he be addressed, but I had seemingly appropriate doubts that that title accurately described him. Every elder, every parent, every _protector_ in the hall averted their eyes and carried on with their conversations as the awful looking bastard clutched Zayn far closer than he looked comfortable with, and whispered things into his ear that made his cheeks turn red and his eyes widen in what I could only interpret as fear. It made my blood boil.

“Lou, don’t,” Clara warned from my side. I turned slightly, finding it was her hand keeping me upright on my unsturdy shoes. She’d followed my gaze, and I was completely prepared to uptake the role of _‘Innocence._ ’

“Whatever do you mean, dear Clara?” I fluttered my lashes, a habit I’d picked up while trying to convince any one of _my_ suitors to do something for me. Apparently it had transferred over into being used whenever I was playing the wholesome card.

“Why, dear Louis, I do believe you know _exactly_ what I mean.”

My older sister’s grip tightened at the place it held my elbow, pulling my lace glove until I feared it would cut my blood off from the rest of my arm. She darted her gaze over to someone behind me and then met my eyes once more, and while I did not especially wish to follow where she was leading our exchange, it was in the interest of all, apparently, to do so. I turned to where her gaze had landed.

Father.

If I were to become involved she would tattle on me like a schoolgirl.

I opened my mouth to speak, to voice another denial of her carefully worded accusation, but no words came, as while my tongue prepared to give her a whipping behind a false smile that would convince any onlookers, a dashing alpha- a _real_ gentleman- came to my side.

“I beg your forgiveness, Lord Louis and Lady Clara, for my interruption, but I would like to ask for the next dance, my Lord.”

Liam.

A genuine grin found its way onto my face.

Marquess Liam James Payne was one of my closest companions. He was also the boy I had been betrothed to since birth, despite my other suitors’ lack of care for this fact. I trusted him explicitly, just as much so as I did Zayn, and I had a vast knowledge of just how little he enjoyed the unwanted courting of young omegas. He was much like myself in that way.

“But of course, Lord Liam. It would be my honor,” I smiled. I tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow and he led me away from the glare hidden behind layers of disinterest that my sister sent my way. We made it to the edge of the dance floor, couples still spinning each other in circles around and around and around…

“What plan might we be attempting this evening, my Lord?” he whispered in my ear. A devilish smile adorned my cheeks. This was not the first time, and nor would it be the last time, that Liam and I had set out upon saving Zayn from an unwelcome gentleman.

“I do believe this simply stunning ball is the perfect opportunity to try the ‘Might I Cut In.’ Don’t you agree, Marquess?” he gave a crystal white grin in return, and we clapped politely as the music stopped. I didn’t have to set my attention upon Liam to know that his gaze rested on the same place mine did.

Zayn.

I knew that he’d been watching for Liam and I’s appearance at the edge of the dance floor- that was his unspoken cue to try everything his could to get away from his suitor before the next song; it would be much less attention-drawing to the entire ordeal if Liam and I were unneeded. We were the epitome of excellent when it came to rescuing Zayn, but it was a last resort. A last resort we had to come to many an instance, unfortunately.

My grip on Liam’s arm tightened as I watched Zayn’s lips move in a frantic fashion and his hands go to his suitor’s chest, trying to gently push him and explain some reason for his wanting to step away. I could not be but afraid as I saw his arms snake around Zayn’s cinched waist and pull him flush to him, his mouth forming an ‘O’ and his gaze finding mine across the floor. I stalked towards them, Liam right beside me.

Zayn was never to look at me when he was with a suitor, for when he did it meant that Liam and I were needed- urgently. It was a call for help, and while we would’ve gone to him in only a minute had he not looked at me, the meeting of our lines of sight told me that now, _now_ was the time to get him away from the dirty bastard that clutched him to him.

Liam and I strode up to the man- who was clearly in annoyance at Zayn’s attempt to get away from his affections- and Liam cleared his throat. Our cues.

“Excuse me, my Lord,”

“Excuse me, sir,” we spoke in tandem, each pulling Zayn and the suitor into different conversations at the same time. I released my grasp on Liam’s arm and angled my body so that I was in between him and the suitor, who’d by now let him out of his hold.

“Might I cut in?” We asked.

“But of course.”

I didn’t need to look at Zayn to know how relieved he was- I could hear it in his voice. I paid courteous eye contact to the man in front of me, keeping gentle concentration on the sounds coming from behind me. Through the chatter and music starting up again, I could just barely make out the soft tapping of Zayn’s heels as he was led away by Liam.

The alpha in front of me let out a sigh, seeming to recollect his manners the slightest bit as he did so.

“Yes, Lord Louis. You may,” I placed my palm in his, and could only think of the apologies Liam and I were going to have to suffer through from Zayn in the next week or so. He believed to be a burden, but he was the fondest friend of both myself and Liam. He was no burden, and it did not affect me the same way it did him to dance with these bachelors. Foremost, because they knew far better than to try anything along the lines of courting me inside my father’s banquet hall with his steely gaze surely coming down upon us. Secondly, they knew that they probably had no chance of successfully courting me anyway- everyone knew of the countless suitors I’d turned down, though that was partly because of my betrothment to Liam.

Zayn’s courter, who I needn’t bother learn the name of, twirled me around to the music. He was a good dancer, I had to admit, when he was not being the utmost of unseemly with an omega that was petrified of him. I kept my gaze somewhere upon him the entire time, momentarily sneaking glances over his shoulder at Liam and Zayn spinning around the dance floor.

The dance came to a close, and Zayn’s courter kissed the back of my hand politely before he spun on his heel and sulked off towards the bar, not quite willing to hold his pride high and survive the rest of the evening without more alcohol in his blood.

I made my way towards the grand doors at the end of the hall, expecting Zayn and Liam to have already begun to make their way into the garden outside. My heels seemed to click all the faster with each step I took, even though I stayed the same speed throughout my traversing of the crowded hall. It was as though it was some sort of warning, some sort of yell to me to go faster.

I did not listen, instead nodding and smiling warmly at anyone who gave me a glance as I leisurely walked away from the festivities. For the second time that night, I tipped back on my heels and a hand grabbed my arm. This time, however, it was the hand that made me teeter back in the first place.

“Outside, Louis. _Now._ And I do believe it best your companions be present for our conversation,” Father snarled. His white cravat seemed loose, as though he’d been pulling at it in stress. Perhaps that’s exactly what he’d been doing if he’d espied what transpired minutes earlier. And by his words, it seemed that was precisely what happened.

All eyes were turned away as Father dragged me from the hall, me tripping over my heels as we went.

“Father,” I hissed as we entered the darkened corridor, “You’re hurting me.” He did not release my arm; he did not even loosen his hold. I would’ve gladly melted into the floor or wall just to disappear. “Where are Liam and Zayn?” I went still in his hold, ceased my fighting. My eyes pleaded my case, yet I knew my father was a corrupt court of law.

“Please, Father. It was all my doing. I convinced Liam to follow my instruction, and Zayn knew nothing. I beg of you, let them be and give me a punishment worthy of all us three.”

He did not blink.

“Where are they?”

I let out a sigh. “The gardens, behind Mother’s pavillion.”

When the light of the moon fell upon Father and I, I could already hear the voices coming just beyond Mother’s great marble present. Father had built it for her after their marriage, as a kind of peace-bringing gift. Mother had had no interest in the marriage between herself and my father, but the pavillion supposedly fixed all their issues. If only all the world’s problems could be solved by the giving of a marble pavillion.

“Liam, why must you insist this was your pleasure? Tell me it’s a pain, that I am a pain- I can’t take the incessant lying anymore!” I had already believed this to be coming; I was not surprised.

“I am no liar, Zayn. Ask Lou when he comes, surely he will tell you-”

“Louis is already here, Liam,” my father’s voice cut through the night, the same way my lace glove cut into my skin under his rough hand. Why did everyone who touched me tonight feel the need to cut off the blood from my arm with the use of my glove?

“Duke Tomlinson,” was all Liam could say. Just a greeting before his brainfailed him in creating any more words.

“I am _tired_ of these shenanigans you three are ever so keen to pull,” he threw my arm back at me, out of his grasp, and I drew in a sharp breath at the feeling of blood returning to each of my fingers.

“Father, I’ve already told you: Zayn knew nothing of what I was going to do, and Liam merely did what I asked, trying to keep some manners about him. Punish me, Father, not-”

“Louis, you need to learn your place… _and_ how to hold your tongue.” My eyes cast down to the cobblestone beneath our feet. “Do not offer me a defense worthy of a fool. This is not the first time you three have tried these tactics to… _save_ Zayn, or whatever it is you see it as. I have tolerated it in times past, but it is clear now that all of you have a lacking of respect for the decisions of your elders,” he paused, turning to Zayn, “When you befriended my son, I was ever joyous, Zayn. Your parents are good people, and I believed you to be another child in a long line of successes on their behalf. Clearly I misjudged you.”

I could see the hurt flash through Zayn’s eyes at my father’s words. Little did he know how deep he was cutting.

“And you, Liam.” I could feel the tension in the air. Father’s thoughts of Liam were detrimental to our marriage in the future. Even taking into account that neither Liam nor I felt anything other than pure friendship towards each other, it was much safer to be betrothed to each other than risk ending up with someone like one of Zayn’s suitors.

“You have failed each test I have put you through. My son is to be your husband- the Duke to yours, and yet you do not succeed time and time again in controlling him. He should not give you instructions to follow, should not ask of you large favors to have you complete without the bat of an eye. Earlier, I was not speaking just to reprimand him when I said he needs to learn his place- I was also telling you to teach it to him. Or I will find an alpha that will.”

Once again, Liam’s words were lost in his throat, and he gave my father nothing but a stern nod in response.

“None of you are to interfere with Zayn’s courting, no matter it be on my estate or anywhere other. Who he marries is his parents’ decision- whether it is liked by you or otherwise. And if any of you go against my word, I shall personally make sure none of you come into contact again, which- I believe- can give you an insight into what with happen to your impending marriage as well, Liam and Louis.”

Father strode off into the night, back towards the castle, leaving us three staring at the ground.

I was such a disappointment. Each of my older sisters were betrothed to their own respective man, each man holding their own position and title and rank. But none of them were to marry a _marquess_ \- a future Duke, an heir to the throne- as I was. That meant many things. It meant I was expected more of, it meant I was supposed to be the epitome of grace and beauty and support of my husband in the future. I found all of that extremely hard to swallow.

I was my father’s chance to have a child of his own holding rank in a neighboring kingdom. I was his way behind the closed doors of Grenich, something he’d been pining after since my eldest sister’s birth. Oh, how he must’ve wished it was Clara or Julianna or Penelope betrothed to Grenich’s Marquess!

But no.

It was I who was to marry to Liam;  Clara, Julianna and Penelope had all been several years older than Liam at the time of his birth. His parents disliked that, had had some deep rooted old-wives tale stuck in their traditions about not marrying their son to an older woman. But me- why, I was perfection! Born two months after Liam, not too far from his age yet not exceeding his either; exactly what Duke and Duchess Payne had been after.

It was by mere luck that Liam and I got on as well as we did. If we hadn’t, well, it wouldn’t have had any impact on the marriage; only our fathers’ opinions could change our predetermined futures. But we both found each other’s company exceedingly satisfying, even if there was never even a glimmer of anything more than platonic.

No, Liam saved that for Zayn.

Zayn Malik and I had met when his family had come to our estate in celebration of a new alliance being forged between our kingdoms, Hollind and Varvick. Varvick’s ruling family was renowned for their immaculate children, extremely well behaved and growing up to be the picture of perfection in whatever position they were placed into, whether that be by marriage or otherwise.

The first time my eyes ever landed on Zayn was when he’d fallen on the steps leading up to our castle’s entrance.

“He _must_ learn to keep some dignity about him, Augustus,” his mother had tsked, leaving her own son to pick himself up off the stones of the stairs. I’d watched from beside Penelope as we stood in the entryway to our home, greeting the Maliks before the alphas set towards the drawing room to discuss matters of politics and business and the omegas went off to the sitting rooms and gardens.

“May I help you?” I’d asked Zayn, lingering behind after our families had disappeared down hallways and through doorways. I’d walked him into the doctor’s room- a place we were _not_ supposed to enter without permission from Dr. Blakewell- and the rest was history.

We were all fifteen- well, Liam was newly sixteen- when I caught them.

It was not uncommon for a plethora of different people to be buzzing around Hollind House for any number of reasons, but if you were ever to find Zayn or Liam, especially if you were to find them together, it wouldn’t be a farfetched assumption to think they were somewhere upon my request.

However, on the eve of the fortnight mark to my sixteenth birthday, I stumbled upon them in the shadows of the trees and bushes, meeting when I had most definitely _not_ requested their presence in the garden at that hour.

It was all soft whispers and gentle touches, Zayn going on about how much it killed him to see Liam dance with me and Liam reassuring him again and again that he wished it to be him.

My feelings were hurt, but not for the most obvious of reasons.

I had never felt for Liam the way Zayn clearly did, but it wounded my heart to know that they’d been hiding their love from me. Was I such a terrible friend that I couldn’t be trusted with their secret? I trusted them with all of mine.

“Liam? Zayn?” I had asked in a small voice, coming out from around the tree I’d been stood behind. Catching them had rendered me immobile a good while, prisoner to listen to their sweet nothings.

It was with speed and fear I’d never seen before that they separated.

“Louis, what are you doing out here? It’s late.” Liam had run his fingers through his hair, trying to keep some order about him. Too bad that that ship had already long sailed.

“I could ask you the same,” I bristled back. “I wanted to take a walk- I found I could not sleep. I had been going to ask if you would join me, Zayn, but I couldn’t find you. I suppose I now know where you were.”

“Louis, if you would let us explain-” Zayn’s voice was frightened, worried.

“There is nothing to explain. You should be off to bed, Zayn, I do believe you are to leave for Varvick tomorrow morning.”

Zayn’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not to leave before the end of the week once  the charity croquet match has come and gone.” He was not understanding what I was trying to do. Oh, bother. I supposed I would have to be a bit more blunt with it.

“Change in schedule, Zayn. The match has been cancelled. Inclement weather- understandable circumstances, of course. I’ll make certain your carriages and servants are ready to escort you back to Varvick in time to return before dusk. You’ll be gone before sunrise, if it suits you.”  

Zayn’s silence was deafening. Liam’s was small and disappointed. He hated when I acted like this, but he wasn’t exactly the epitome of maturity himself.

“Liam, Father is to go to a fox hunt in two days time. He thinks it good if you are to accompany him, even if Grenich did not receive an invitation. You will have a grand time, I assure you.”

Liam did not even nod.

After my harsh words and blatant tactics to get them away from my kingdom as soon as possible, I went to bed. It was the worst sleep I believe I’ve ever gotten. And the next morning, Zayn left before sunrise as I’d arranged. I stayed in my bedchambers- “too tired from my late walk the night prior to offer a suitable goodbye.”

A day following that, Liam left with my father to Requinshire. The fox hunt lasted a fortnight, and Zayn came down with some sort of deeply-set chest cold shortly after his Hollind departure, saving me from having to spend my birthday with either of them by mere days.

It was weeks before I spoke to either of them again, and months before our friendships recovered.

So that’s how it was now. Our lives were messy and entangled, but it was just that- our lives. I was to marry Zayn’s beloved, and Liam’s beloved was to marry some sort of middle-aged bachelor. It was like a knock-off Shakespeare production.

Zayn broke the ocean of silence my father had left in his wake with a small, gentle wave. “Louis, don’t let it slip your mind: the Duke and Duchess of Haniston and their children are arriving tomorrow for business, and we have to greet them upon their arrival.”

“Your uncle’s family?” I asked.

“The very same.”

I thought a moment. We’d have to set time aside so as to get back to the estate from wherever we would venture off to tomorrow. “What time shall they arrive?”

Zayn offered a small grin when Liam took his hand unexpectedly. In any other presence this would be the epitome of a scandal, but I was used to seeing Liam and Zayn act such a way. They scarcely got time together, even if I was there, and I would not rob them of each other’s affection. “They’ll be at the gates by half-three,” he said, “And don’t forget that Cassius is the marquess. He hates when people forget his title.”

“Yes, of course,” I nodded. “Tis only the Hanistons coming tomorrow, correct?”

Zayn shook his head, “My father told me that my uncle is bringing along another marquess as well; apparently Duke Winthrop is very well acquainted with Duke Styles of Illveys.”

“Illveys?” Liam interjected, “That’s a two days journey from Haniston alone, and a four day journey from here.”

Zayn shrugged, “Father said there is business to be had between Haniston, Illveys and Hollind. Duke Styles sent his heir to take care of it- grooming and preparation for the throne.”

I nodded at Zayn’s words. I had heard sayings of Illveys’ Marquess in passing, knew very little of him, and I had never been graced with an introduction. They were a well regarded kingdom, extremely well allied with Haniston and Grenich alike, so Liam had known the Marquess long since his childhood. He never had anything to say of the alpha, and I had never had any reason to explore the topic.

The wind of the night brought music from the hall to the gardens where we stood.

“It seems to getting late in the hour, no?” Liam mumbled, and I rolled my eyes. This was my cue to leave Zayn and Liam in peace. Duke and Duchess Malik and Duke and Duchess Payne knew not of Zayn and Liam’s romantic relationship, but they knew of their close friendship- unusual for an alpha and omega that were not betrothed or courting- and did not allow them to spend time together unless is was on Hollind’s grounds. They believed that me, Liam’s betrothed, would never allow and would greatly discourage anything from blooming between the pair. Oh, how mistaken they were.

“Yes, yes, I must be going,” I said, “I’ll see you two in the dining hall at noon for a luncheon tomorrow?” I turned and walked my way back to Hollind House. I didn’t need an answer, I already knew they’d be there.

I had my head ducked, playing with my fingers as I walked, completely oblivious to the twosome walking my way until it was too late.

“Oh, please excuse me- my sincerest apologies, sirs. That was completely my fault.” I hurried back a step after slamming into a tall, broad alpha. He lost his balance a moment before regaining his composure and glaring at me through the darkness of the hour.

“Yes, you’re right- it _is_ your fault, omega. Who exactly, am I speaking to? I wish to report whichever house servant had the audacity to run into me.”

My mouth hung open in a fine mixture of disbelief and disgust. This man had some nerve- apologies, that’s incorrect. This was not even a man- merely a young adult, much like myself. He seemed only a few years Liam, Zayn and I’s senior. And his companion, well, he wasn’t a man of an alpha either. He was the same age as I or his companion. Making these revelations, however, did nothing to quench the anger burning in my chest.

“The _house servant_ you’re speaking to is Lord Louis William Morris Tomlinson, fourth child of Florence and Harrison Tomlinson, and the betrothed of the Marquess of Grenich, Lord Liam Payne. It would serve you well to demonstrate even a minisculity of respect, as this _omega_ can make anything you’re attempting to achieve in Hollind extremely difficult.”

I may not have especially enjoyed having my title, but I did know how to use it to my advantage. I wasn’t daft.

Even on the dim-lit garden path we were stood could I see the recognition dawn on the duo’s faces. It absolutely boggled my mind how alphas like this still thought it decent to treat omegas in such a way- house servant or other.

“And who, exactly, am I speaking to?” I sneered, “I wish to report whichever uncultured swine had the audacity to disrespect a Lord quite so.”

There was feeble doubt that these surely title-holding alphas had ever been spoken to in such a manner by an omega. Well. I suppose they should be grateful I was the first.

“I beg your pardon, my Lord, I hadn’t recognized you,” the boy-man I’d ran into apologized, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance-“ not quite a pleasure on my end- “I am Marquess Cassius Bernard Winthrop, and this is my friend, Marquess Harry Edward Nathaniel Styles.” Cassius bowed slightly, and Harry nodded his head respectfully in the same way.

I narrowed my eyes at the pair. “The Marquess of Illveys and the Winthrops of Haniston are not to arrive until tomorrow afternoon.”

“My parents and siblings,” Cassius gently corrected. “They are overseeing the construction of a chapel on Haniston land not far from here. Lord Harry and I left the oversight early; we arrived only an hour ago, wishing to skip the end of the ball as we were not in proper attire.”

I prudently looked them over. They were donned in respectable clothes for the day, both in waistcoats and breeches. However, their undershirts were ruffled and cravats loose, indicating either a fine level of intoxication or a long day’s journey, and I assumed it to be the second from Cassius’ earlier explanation.

“Yes,” I amended, “I see.” It was quiet for a moment before I heard the slam of carriage doors in the distance. The ball was over; people were leaving. “I must be going,” I said quickly, and Cassius offered me an apologetic smile- the sincerity of which could be debated. A few bows and curtseys later, and I had passed them on the dark garden path, nearing Hollind House.

I quickly strode into the entrance hall, trying to keep my wits about me even though I’d just nearly lost my head over something so childish, so trivial out in the garden. Maybe Father was right, maybe I did need to learn how to hold my tongue.

I was pulled from my thoughts when Julianna appeared by my side, pulling me gently towards the grand entrance doors of the castle, where Duke and Duchess Horan of Turbinary stood, speaking with my parents and sisters. Their son Niall was stood a few feet away near the bottom of the grand staircase, back facing me. He was a friend that I adored and saw very sparingly.

“Niall! How are you, my Lord?”

He turned at my voice, and I embraced him with a smile, some of the beads of his high bodice brushing my lower neckline as I pulled away.

Niall was a wonderful omega, the picture of beauty and grace, everything my parents wished me to be. Except, not tonight, apparently.

The smile dropped from my face as I looked over his. He looked ghastly upset, creases on his forehead and furrowed eyebrows. His mouth was turned down at the corners and his freckles glowed with a sadness quite unlike him.

“Niall?” I rested a gloved hand on his forearm, squeezing gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Louis, I truly _cannot_ marry him. I’d sooner slit my own throat than lay a willing hand on him, I-” he rambled, eyes blinking in a frantic fashion.

“Niall, come with me, and I’ll bring you somewhere we can ease your worry in private, yes?”

He wiped a hand over his face once, glove coming back with powder dusting it, and nodded once.

I didn’t spare Duke and Duchess Horan nor my own parents any glances as I led Niall away from the entrance hall. If anyone were to see him he would become the talk of the night between the omegas of the ball. I had been there and suffered through that, and Niall needn’t.

“I’m sorry, Louis, I’m sure you have goodbyes to give and people to speak with,” Niall apologized as we walked down one of the deserted hallways, far away from the ballroom alphas and omegas were still streaming out of of.

“Don’t apologize. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

In all honesty, I would rather be with Niall helping him than bidding goodbyes to any of my parent’s snobby acquaintances.

There was a washing room just past one of the tutoring rooms I would receive lessons in when I was younger, and I lead Niall inside, and sat him down on the small settee as I lit the candles and rang a washcloth in the cold water someone hadn’t drained from the sink.

“What’s happened, Ni?” I looked in the mirror at myself as I spoke, Niall behind me. My fluffy hair had reverted to its more spiky state and my previously pink lips had faded into a dusty rose over the course of the ball.

“I’m betrothed.”

What?

Niall? Betrothed?

The Horans were very “modern age”- they didn’t believe in arranged marriages. In fact, Niall’s older brother Demetrius was told to court for love, and so he fell in love with a very nice omega named Constance that would govern alongside him when Duke Horan stopped down from the throne. The Horans had always seemed very pleased with Demetrius’ decision in Constance, and they hadn’t interjected in their courting in even the minutest of ways.

I spun to face Niall, cloth in my hands and eyebrows raised in disbelief. “To whom?”

“Cassius Winthrop.”

Oh, how _terribly_ ironic. “Cassius Winthrop?”

“Yes. He is the Marquess of Haniston.”  

I did not particularly like Cassius after our exchange earlier in the evening- in fact, I edged more on dislike than anything else. Niall deserved much better than someone who acted in such a way as he did.

“Why have you been betrothed to him? I did not know of any deep relations between Haniston and Turbinary.”

“There weren’t any,” Niall sniffed, “until Mother and Father heard of rumours of iron being found in a southern territory of the Winthrop’s. Suddenly they weren’t able to sleep until I was betrothed to Haniston’s marquess with the contract of Turbinary receiving a portion of any iron found on Haniston land.”

Drat it. Niall deserved so, _so_ much better.

“I am so very sorry for you, Niall-” he averted his eyes from my own- “but why are you so upset? I’ve never seen you this way before, and this doesn’t seem like something that would wind you up in such a way.”

I hoped Niall would not take it as though I thought he was overreacting, because I did not. If it were anyone other than Liam I would be completely spiteful towards even the thought of an arranged marriage, but this seemed more than just the usual distaste for betrothment.

“I am in love.” Ah.

It was simple, the way he said it, almost blankly, and yet I couldn’t stop the smile coming onto my face.

“Who is it?”

A blush rose on his cheeks and he played with his fingers, his distressed mood long gone.

“A footman back home. I know he hasn’t a title, but, Louis, he is the sweetest alpha. He makes me feel so loved and I-”

“Niall,” I held up a hand, “You don’t need to justify your love to me- or to anyone, for that matter. I’m happy for you.”

He took a breath in. “Thank you,” he began to look upset once again, the smile wiped away now. “I was going to marry him,” he said, mouth twisted in a sour sort of sense. “He hadn’t asked for my parents’ blessing, but the day he was going to Cassius and his father appeared at our gates, beckoned by my parents.”

My heart broke for him. “Oh, Niall.”

“Mother and Father would usually never consider arranged marriage, but our people’s taxes have been rising to accomodate for our lack of funds. If we were to have an influx of money from iron, we could relieve our commoners from the severity of their tax obligations.”

It was just like Niall to defend his parents even in something he wished they wouldn’t do. And it now seemed justified, his betrothment to Cassius, when the situation in Turbinary was what it was.

“But you still wish to marry your beloved,” I mused aloud.

Niall nodded. “But it’s more than that, Louis. Cassius learned of my relationship with my footman; I still cannot fathom how, for no one knew. But he officiated with my father that if we are to marry, I am never to return to Turbinary after our wedding day. I will never see my love again, never see my brother or parents.”

My blood boiled on Niall’s behalf. he was doing something for his province, something he wished not to do with all of his being but he was doing for the good of his people. Yet Cassius still had the nerve to make this as difficult as he could.

He would have no contact with his family after. If he were to marry before Demetrius and Constance, he would not even be allowed back to Turbinary Estate for his brother’s wedding. He would not be allowed back for the funerals of his parents. He would not be allowed to attend any social functions or gatherings in his home province.

“How dare he,” I grimaced, head shaking back and forth as I spoke, “Does Cassius know what this will do to you?”

Niall hung his head. “I think he takes a sick joy in knowing he will be able to cut me off from my family as well as my love, and that there will be nothing I can do about it.”

“Niall, I-”

“Louis? Niall? Are you in there?” I jumped as Julianna banged on the door. “Duke and Duchess Horan have been waiting to leave for twenty minutes now; Mother and Father sent maids out to search the estate.”

I looked to Niall, and he gave me a sad and ingenuine smile.

“We’ll meet everyone in the entrance hall, Penelope,” I said through the door, and I listened carefully at the sound of footsteps dissipating slowly down the hall.

“You are so lucky, Louis,” Niall informed me as we left the wash room, taking care to blow out the candles. “You are betrothed to an alpha that will cherish and treat you the way you deserve. Liam is noble, will continue to be noble through you marriage. He would never do something to trap or hurt you.”

I could not argue with that.

Liam grew from a family that held moral values and actions in the highest esteem. He was completely capable of greatness, was going to be a fantastic duke, I was sure. Even if our relationship was destined to be something neither of us wanted, I could not say that there was anyone else I wished to be betrothed to. I did not love anyone to the amount I loved Liam, whether platonically or romantically.

“Goodness, Niall, you’ve kept us for a third of an hour now. Where’ve you been?” Duchess Horan never was one for particularly pleasant behavior when her precious schedule was thrown off.

Niall floundered.

“Lord Zayn of Varvick gifted me a novel recently and Niall had wished to see it. I’m terribly sorry we lost track of time, Duke and Duchess Horan.”

Thankfully enough, Duke Horan had had one too many glasses of wine at the ball and was gleefully intoxicated. “It is no trouble of ours, Louis, but please, Niall, if we might be going?”

Curtseys and bows, handshakes and embraces later, the Horans of Turbinary had left. In their wake, however, were the Winthrop and Styles Marquesses.  

“Beautiful estate you have, Duke Tomlinson, Duchess. I’m regretful we missed the ball- I greatly wished to dance with my newly betrothed,” Cassius said lightly, and I narrowed my eyes at him before I caught myself and schooled my expression into something more pleasant.

“Newly betrothed, are you? To whom?” My father asked. I wasn’t surprised he didn’t know; after all, I hadn’t known either and it seemed as though the news hadn’t spread yet.

“Lord Niall Horan. He just left- I saw him coming down the front steps and getting into a carriage with the Duke and Duchess of Turbinary.”

My parents shared a glance that nobody- not the Styles nor my sisters and myself- missed. “Niall Horan?” my mother implored, and Cassius raised a brow at her, prompting her to go on.

“Forgive us,” Father shook his head at himself, “Surely Niall and yourself will have a wonderful courting and marriage, Cassius. But the Horans are not… it is surprising they betrothed their son to anyone.”

Cassius gave a tight lipped smile to my father, “Yes, well, Lord Niall and I are extremely eager for our courting. Simply ecstatic about it.”  

“Are you certain of that, Lord?”

I let the words fly from behind my teeth before I’d found the will to hold my tongue- it was becoming a problem for me, truly. My older sisters looked scandalized and my parents aghast. Lord Harry- who I had yet to hear a word from- looked curious, of all things.

“Pardon me?” Cassius still had that tight lipped smile on his face, but there was an underlying tone to it now. Something unhinged that made me uncomfortable.

My mother’s dismayed face at my words had me thinking better of what I was to say next, but it ultimately did nothing to cease my actions.

“I asked if you were certain that Lord Niall is _simply ecstatic_ for your courting. Perhaps you should listen better when an omega is speaking of arranged marriage.”

From the way his eyes bore into my own I could tell without a shadow of a doubt that he knew of my understanding of his betrothment to Niall. That I knew of the things written into the contract that I was sure no one else did. That I knew of how little Niall wished to marry Cassius.

I also knew that he understood the double meaning my last statement had held.

“I must say that I am truly disheartened by your words, Lord Louis. Whatever prompted such unsophistication from an omega such as yourself?”  

I was shocked my father had not intervened yet to stop me from embarrassing him and myself. Maybe he hadn’t because he knew that the Horans did _not_ betroth their children under normal circumstances, or maybe he hadn’t because he did not like the demeanour Cassius presented. Either way, he was not trying to hinder whatever it was I had to say to the Marquess, and I was going to release everything I had on my mind until he did.

“Oh, you wish to speak of unsophistication, Marquess? Then why don’t we discuss the events of earlier-”

“That is enough _._ ” Ah. There is was. “I cannot for the life of me understand what has prompted these words of unrefinement from both of you, but I can assure you that it has gone on far too long,” my father snapped. “I was hoping you would exchange few regretful words and let it die, but it appears neither of you are suited to stopping these embarrassing endeavors of yours.” I did not drop my gaze from Cassius, my glare just as prevalent as it had been before my father’s intervention.

“Louis,” Father said, “You are spending the day with Liam and Zayn tomorrow, I presume.” I offered no response. “If you wish to ignore my speaking to you, you may spend tomorrow alone in your bed chambers,” he chastised, and I nodded at his words with a huff. “I see. Cassius will be accompanying you and your companions wherever you are to go tomorrow.”

Both Cassius’ and my own eyes bugged from our skulls.

“Father-” I tried, but Cassius was already attempting to weasel his way out of the situation.

“Duke Tomlinson, I do apologize that I lost my wits a few moments ago, but I am to be drawing up matters of business with you, my father, and Lord Harry tomorrow.” Cassius looked appalled at the idea of spending time with Zayn, Liam and I. I was appalled by it as well.

“You will be allowed into my drawing room when you have proven that you are capable of maturity. From this encounter, you’ve proven the opposite,” Father stated, tone even. “Lord Harry,” he carried on, and the brunette alpha offered more stoic silence as a respectful reply, “I _shall_ see _you_ tomorrow in my drawing room. Do not be late- I do not take kindly to tardy individuals.”


	2. Unconscious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis’ time with Cassius leads to a rather wild turning point, and (almost) everyone pays the price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all. This gal was super fun to write, and I hope you guys like the character development we get for several different people as much as I do.   
> Phia

I found it terribly peculiar to have my dreams plagued with someone I’d had merely two interactions with- neither of them positive- but I suppose that’s why they’re not referred to as dreams- they are nightmares.

To be fair, while the nightmare was from my perspective, it was not about something especially pertaining to myself. I had simply been prisoner to watch through time’s eyes as Cassius and Niall courted and married, had pups, and grew old until eventually, they died.

It had been _horrific_.

Niall’s sadness had seemed to become an extension of my own the longer I observed them, and as they became withered and wrinkled, I saw the light leave his eyes more and more each passing day. Cassius was slowly murdering Niall in cold blood, a painful and drawn out death, and he was completely aware.

He was simply uncaring for that fact.

Bastard.

If I were to put stock in my dreams, and I did, then my earliest impressions of the Haniston Marquess were more than correct. He was not deserving of Niall- he was not deserving of anyone.

There was a carnal, instinctive need for me to try and help my friend, but there were lines- there were boundaries that even I could not cross and get away with, especially now that I appeared to be on such thin ice with my father.

Father. Ugh.

He was not a bad man- he was a good alpha that had fought bravely and admirably for his kingdom during an era in which his father would rather have seen his heir sit classily in the castle’s courtroom. However, time had been a torment upon his morals, waning them down until he remained a shell of the rebelling, openly-loving wolf he once was. Now, dare I say it, he resembled more of my grandfather and other title-holding men than I’d ever seen of him.

Times were changing, and I was not always sure it was in a productive sense for anyone.

I’d woken late, taking breakfast in my bedchambers with a book as my company. _The Fatal Marriage_ , it was called, by a man named Thomas Southerne. How horribly coincidental. I found the plot far too easily related to, and by an hour to noon when my handmaid came to collect my dishes and dress me for the luncheon I was more than grateful for an excuse to put the novel down. Mister Southerne had a terribly heightened affliction for tragedy demonstrated through humor, it seemed.

After I was dressed and fluffed, Theodora- my handmaid- pottered off somewhere with my dirty sleep clothes and dishes while I made my way down to the dinner hall. People were streaming about every corridor, down every hallway and through every doorway. It was tradition.

The Winthrops of Haniston had never set their prim, pampered feet in Hollind Territory and, as was customary, we were to greet them with our very best as a result. Paintings, settees and even sheets of music for the piano in the Grand Hall that hadn’t been spared a glance in years were to be in pristine condition.

It wasn’t especially conventional to go so far to our extremes, but Haniston was a rich kingdom- or so that was the old rumor. The newest whispers told of the Winthrops using their peasants’ ridiculously exorbitant taxes to pay for their own luxuries instead of paying it forward to give their commoners better lives. Not even _good_ lives. Simply better.

As all kingdoms did, Haniston kept their doors tightly locked and their secrets behind those doors, and those rumors would most likely never come to the public’s attentions unless the civilians of Haniston staged a revolt against the Winthrops.

I hoped they would. If the other Winthrops were as… _entitled_ as Cassius, then they deserved all the pain that could be inflicted by their commonwealth.

I expected as much as I was given sight to when I entered the hall. Maids and servants were bustling around, trying to create a fluffed, formal atmosphere while people were still strewn about, eating their lunch.

“Louis!” I was called for. Liam and Zayn were sitting at the end of the long table, plates of food already in front of them. I offered them a grin and gathered the folds of my gown into my hands as I readied myself to walk towards them- I _detested_ heavily layered dresses in any situation. However, as I lifted my foot from the floor to take a step, a pale white smirk blocked my way.

Ugh. I had been hoping to rendezvous with Cassius as late in the hour as possible.

“Lord,” I greeted, eyes narrowed and a false smile on my lips.

“Lord,” was the reply I got. Cassius had a devious smirk painted on, one that made me worry for what was to come before the day was to end.

“Will you be joining my companions and I for lunch, then, Cassius?”

“I do believe I don’t have much choice.”

“Fair enough,” I shook my head, shrugging my shoulders. If Cassius believed I was going to enjoy any of this he was terribly mistaken.

“Lead the way, my Lord.”

We crossed the long room, myself not failing to notice the inquisitive looks I received from Zayn and Liam on the way.

I had few wits and even less patience about me, and so when Cassius bumped into a maid carrying dishes stacked higher than she could see, and then proceeded to yell at _her_ for running into _him_ , I had few reservations about expressing exactly what plagued my mind.

“How dare you,” he fumed, drawing himself up to stand further over the small, terrified omega maid- Meredith was her name. “Are you incapable of walking, you uneducated servant? Of watching your surroundings? Do you have no respect for visitors in this kingdom, for representing what your Duke and Duchess try to? You are a failure of a maid, of an omega, no less-”

“Do you have any respect, Cassius, for anyone other than yourself? Because with the way you present yourself, you surely cannot respect my parents nor myself nor the people that drew your bathwater and cooked your meal this morning.” I crossed my arms over my chest, my weight rocking back onto my low heels as I spoke in a bored tongue.

The dining hall had long gone silent at the ruckus of the plates crashing down to the hall floor and Cassius’ yelling, but at my own interjection it seemed to become even more so.

“Pardon me, Louis?” Cassius looked as though he couldn’t believe that I had just insulted him. He was an idiot- he knew my temperament well enough by now; he should’ve expected I would not stand by with no expression of my own.

“You do not deserve any pardon, Cassius, whether it be from Meredith or myself.”

His entire stature went rigid, and he did nothing more than stare at me for a few uncomfortable minutes while I pretended to be unaffected by his alpha posturing and outrage, so very directed towards me as of now. Eventually the overwhelming staring contest became far too much, and I turned to Meredith, shaking where she stood.

“Please, Meredith, do not fret over the plates,” she nodded, eyes perpetually wide and unblinking, “Go calm yourself, yes? You look shaken.” She scurried away, leaving the broken plates at my feet, a symbol of what I had just done with Cassius. I had broken the spell of his perfect alpha superiority.

What an early morning it was for all of this pointless- and easily avoidable- drama. I certainly would’ve preferred to have tea before it went any further.

Cassius was still too angry for words to grace him, it seemed, but when his shoulders hiked even further back I knew he was readying himself to release a lashing unto me. I smirked the slightest bit to myself then, only a minisculity of a grin, because I knew that his scolding of me would never be allowed past its onset. Liam and Zayn would sooner slit their own throats than sit by and let me be put into my place by anyone besides my father, as I would for them.

“I do not know how you were raised, _omega_ , but in Haniston, omegas know their place, and they know how invaluable respect to their alphas is. Perhaps I should show you why they know such things- in all truth, I think I shall give you demonstration. Sleep with one eye open, Lord.”

I had been expecting something- had tried to be prepared for anything, but I found that little preparation could be made for Cassius’ words. He was confident, ignorantly so, to think that making such a dastardly threat would go unpunished, now by Liam and later by my father.

A stupid bastard, he was.

“Might I ask that you repeat those words you speak so insolently, Cassius, now to someone you deem equal?” Liam asked, finding a spot between Cassius and I, chin raised, eye contact with the other alpha something I would undoubtedly being lowering my head at had it been directed my way.

“This is not your fight, old friend- I suggest you forget your loyalties and let what deserves to be done be seen through.”

Liam scoffed, vein in his neck pulsing, just able to be seen from where I was behind him.

“Are you not but a pig-headed fool, Cassius? Do you not ask, with complete confidence, that I leave my betrothed here to be reprimanded by someone that has no right?”

Cassius laughed- a hideous, false honking that disturbed me to my very core.

I looked around; all of the servants had stopped their movements, standing unmoving in their positions with armfuls of dishes or cutlery, disposed to watch the show, as it be. At the door to the hall, standing still and silent with appalled expressions on each of their faces, were my sisters. Clara looked partially inclined to turn around, run and get Father, and for once I wished that she would- Liam would not retreat from such a personal siege upon his pride and ego, and neither would Cassius. There was no doubt in my mind.

One face that surprised me to lay my eyes upon, however, was Lord Harry, the Marquess of Illveys that had arrived at Hollind with Cassius himself merely a day ago. He was sitting at the end of the grand table closest to the door; I must’ve unknowingly passed him on my way to Liam and Zayn. He looked… unreadable. Not quite disinterested and not quite interested either, but instead blank.

Peculiar.

I turned my attentions back to the rising conflict in front of me when Cassius began to speak.

“You are to tell me, Liam, that it is you who is to marry such a grim excuse for an omega? Oh, I shall pray for your sanity in the future.”

Liam stiffened. “Perhaps if you didn’t lend all of your focus to trying to impress your father, Cassius, you would not be the most ignorant person in this room.”

Cassius growled, taking a challenging step forwards, and I was more than relieved to hear the tapping of frantic heels taking off out of the room, the sound dissipating as they got further away. I prayed Clara would be fast.

“You should tell your precious betrothed to take a seat, dear friend, so as he isn’t hurt at the fault of your incompetence in fighting.”

“Go sit with Zayn, Louis.” I was shocked Liam had actually listened to Cassius.

“Whatever do-”

“I wish I could say I was surprised, Liam, that you cannot control you own omega.”

“Sit. Down. Louis,” Liam snarled at me, furious eye contact with Cassius never breaking.

I knew it better than to try my luck; I walked towards Zayn, but stopped next to a pillar halfway there, wrapping my arms around it.

I did not know if I could watch.

It was a slow dance Liam and Cassius performed. They both crouched, growls formulating somewhere deep in their chests as they circled each other in the, albeit small, space beside the grand table.

It was Cassius who lunged first.

He jumped forward, fist swinging, but Liam was too quick for him. I did not know why Liam was sometimes overlooked as a physical presence- he was not only tall, but also broad with sufficient muscle to prove his strength. Perhaps it was his gentlemanly demeanor and kind face that made people think such nonsense as though he could not defend himself.

Whomever else it was with such preposterous notions would soon be disproved.

Liam caught the fist swinging at his face, yanking Cassius forward by his arm so as to get a closer target to hit.

His fist made contact. Blood flew from Cassius’ mouth.

I closed my eyes, arms still holding onto the pillar as though it would provide me any other comfort than keeping me upright in such overwhelming circumstances.

I flinched at each sound that met my ears, harsh noises driving me to subconsciously curl in on myself despite my standing position. 

A moment overcame me in which a surge of outrage and courage shot through my body, encouraging my eyes to open in what I could only describe as my worst mistake as of late. And it was then a thought graced my mind- I could surely stop this fight- forgetting the ever crucial fact that Clara had left to retrieve our father.

There was no hesitation, though there should’ve been.

I ran forward, towards Cassius and Liam, my speed-hindering heels only further cementing my hatred for them. I vaguely registered the sound of Zayn in the background, frantic voice yelling something around the lines of, “Louis, don’t!” My mind had already decided, though, what course of action my body was to take in the next several moments.

There was a second in which Liam and Cassius stopped their endless cycle of sparring, and I weaseled my way in between them. Pity I hadn’t noticed that Cassius’ fist had already began to fly through the air again.

When his hand first touched my face, my initial reaction was being entirely confused. How had I gotten hit when this had been such a flawless execution of my plan? My second reaction was pain, and my third reaction was a dizzy spell at the sight of blood. Lord, getting punched in the nose was far more painful than alphas made it seem.

I looked up from my bloodied hand, held under my nose to collect the dripping blood, and into Cassius’ eyes.

There was a shocked silence of dread that filled the room, and his expression mirrored it without fault.

“Louis, I- I did not- surely you can- I don’t-” he shook his head back a forth, fist still formed and held out in front of him, blood smeared his face and dripping onto his white collared shirt.

I had expected Liam to become outraged, far further infuriated at my strike, but instead he regressed back into his natural state of caring.

“Louis, by God, are you alright? What have you done, Cassius?”

I turned to face him, and in doing so faced the onlookers in the hall that were spread towards the door instead of behind me towards Zayn.

Each and every one looked horrified and appalled.

And then the tears. Heavens above, the tears. I had not meant to cry, and the pain had surely not been great enough to warrant tears, but the knowledge and complete understanding of what had just happened did push me towards an emotional state.

As one fell down my cheek and I cupped my hands around my nose, a movement in the otherwise still crowd near the door caught my attention.

I had not thought this could possibly become any worse, and I had been wrong.

“What is _going on here_?” my father demanded, and I would’ve responded, I had every intention of doing so, but it was then that the situation truly came crashing down upon me, and I found that it was hard to respond when I was suddenly lying on the floor, eyes rolling back into my head.

 

…

 

When I blinked my eyes open, the light entering from somewhere in the room made my head spin, nose throbbing and back of my skull feeling much the same.

There was a burning in my right hand, though it had the undertones of something almost comforting, as by some explanation I had been finding enjoyment in the sensation.

When my vision cleared, I turned my head to the side, the fabric underneath my neck rustling, and the sight I was met with was not one I had been expecting.

“Lord Harry,” I said, surprise undermining my intentionally pleasant greeting. I glanced down; his hand was holding my own.

“Lord Louis,” he replied, head giving a nod. It was the first time I had ever heard him speak. “How are you feeling?”

“I am…” the consideration I gave to his questioning was most likely unencouraging to him. “I am fine,” I eventually said. His grip on my fingers was at the forefront of my mind, my entire being insisting that it was unseemly to hold onto another alpha’s hand when I betrothed.

Betrothed.

Liam.

“Where is Lord Liam? And my father?” I sat up on the cot, pulling my hand from Harry’s as I gained my bearings. We were in Dr. Blakewell’s room; I was lying on his examination cot.

Harry stared at his empty palm a moment prior to offering a response, contemplating something before closing his fingers into a loose fist and dropping it onto the arm of the chair in which he sat.

“I was not privy to where your father took Lords Liam and Cassius,” he explained, tone blank, an emotion I had partially come to expect on his behalf, “Duke Tomlinson asked me to escort you to the physician’s office prior to his leaving of the dining hall.”

“Escort me?”

“Yes,” Harry confirmed.

“Forgive my lapse in memory, but I do not recall walking down here, Lord Harry.” To be within the standards of honesty, I did not recall anything past momentarily staring at the intricate painting that comprised the dining hall ceiling.

Harry shook his head, “No forgiveness is necessary, my Lord- your father bestowed upon me the responsibility of _carrying_ you down here-” I had still been unconscious?- “And…” he stopped himself from going on.

“And?” I prompted.

“And cleaning you.”

I was appalled.

My father, a proposedly wise man if nothing else, had asked a virtually unknown alpha to care for me in arguably my most vulnerable state as of yet- when I was _betrothed_? If anything, twas Liam’s responsibility to care for me, and if not him then certainly Zayn.

My mind was empty of a response to Harry, though when my hand came to brush at my upper lip it came back cleanly- free of dried blood. I looked down at my hands; they too were free of blood, though if I was not mistaken, I had used them a net for my nose when it had been dripping.

“I… I am betrothed,” was what I eventually settled upon, shock unhindered in my declaration.

“I know, Lord.”

“But you, you-”

“Pardon my interruption, but I am certain Duke Tomlinson would have requested Lord Liam care for you had he not been preoccupied with reprimanding his and Lord Cassius’ behavior earlier.”

“I… where is Dr. Blakewell? How long have we been here?” I twisted my body, grabbing the folds of my dress to push over the side of the cot along with my legs. I knew where to find my father and the two feuding alphas if time had not turned into my enemy.

“Dr. Blakewell is off duty for the next fortnight, as your father explained it. His mate recently delivered his pups, is what I understand.” Of course- there had been a celebration only two days previous, the night before the ball, in celebration. “We have been here about three-quarters an hour, I believe, if the sun is a reliable indication.”

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards momentarily before returning to its more natural straight-set conformity, and I nodded.

“Well, you have my appreciations for your gentlemanly escorting and… _cleaning_ , but I am afraid it is now time to attempt to make reparations for the mess I have made.” I got to my feet slowly- Godforsaken heels not offering much assistance in my endeavors- and Harry stood to his feet as well, offering his arm to steady me. I declined with a smile, and his arm fell back to his side before extending halfway out between us.

“If I may?”

I glanced down at his outstretched appendage. If he may _what_?

“I… are you to act respectably?”

Harry almost laughed at my question. “I am,” he replied, rare smile on his cheeks. He had deformities in his face, I noticed, something my mother had once referred to as _dimples_.

“Then you may.”

I followed his movements with my eyes until his hand disappeared from my sight, coming to wrap around to the back of my head. I questioned him with a narrowing of my eyes; we were standing closely, his height much greater than my own even with my heels.

“Don’t not become worked up, omega, and do not flatter yourself. I am merely examining your head- you struck it quite well when you fainted.” My thin patience broke at his rude words- today was not turning out to be a day in which I had many reservations about my actions.

“That is enough, _Lord_ ,” I snipped, and Harry took a step backwards, arm coming down to his side and remaining there. “I am going to find my father,” I spat, striding towards the door of Dr. Blakewell’s office. The audacity of some alphas.

I stopped, hand on the door handle, when Harry spoke.

“I apologize, Lord Louis. It was truly only my intention to help.”

I did not turn to face him, to examine the supposed sincerity of his statement in his facial expression. Instead I opened the door, stepping into the threshold before pausing to give a reply.

“I have yet to know most anything about you or your kingdom, Lord Harry,” I said, “But you appear to have won the affections of my father. Consider, however, that you have yet to win my own, and I do have his ear.”

However, as I left Lord Harry to stand alone in Dr. Blakewell’s room, I doubted the accuracy of that declaration. My father and I had not been on the best of terms as of late, after the extravagance of his reprimanding with Liam, Zayn and I, and now with the situation between Cassius, Liam and I, that outlook appeared grim.

I tried to traverse Hollind House’s halls as quickly as I could, but I had made it up merely a staircase when I was stopped by my sister, her hands coming to rest on my shoulders as she looked upon me.

“Louis, do tell me you are in good health,” she pleaded, and I fought the instinctual rolling of my eyes. I had been struck in the nose and fainted from the blood-  it was hardly the kiss of death.

“I am _fine_ , Julianna, but of more pressing issues: do you know where Father is?”

Julianna nodded, hands dropping from my shoulders. “I may be mistaken, but last I heard he was speaking of punishments for the problematic lords- especially Lord Cassius as for hitting you. The guards posted outside of Father’s drawing room have been telling rumors to the maids that there is talk of lost alliances between Grenich, Haniston and Hollind,” she flicked hair off her shoulder with a scoff, “Apparently Father has only been impressed by Illveys as of recently.”

The strong alliance with and favoring of Grenich by my father was detrimental to Liam and I’s impending marriage. If there was no connection to be had between our kingdoms, there was no reason for my father to marry his son to Grenich’s marquess.

At this knowledge my hope dwindled quickly; such threats would not be made by my father was he not seriously contemplating them.

“Shall I hold onto any hope I can fix this, Julianna?” I asked, shoulders slumped. This day had strayed far from the path it had been intended to take.  

“Do not surrender to arduous circumstances, Louis,” she smiled, bright as usual, “If you are to win back Father’s favor for Liam, you cannot give in yet. He is undoubtedly depending on you.”

I nodded, my shoulders feeling heavier under the weight of my new endeavor.

“Thank you,” I said, leaving a kiss upon my sister’s cheek as I spun around, heading towards the drawing room my father cared so deeply for.

“Louis, pardon me, but you may want to prioritize Zayn after your inevitable argument with Father ends- he has not spoken to anyone since Father dragged Liam and Lord Cassius from the dining hall, and his _is_ your close companion.”

“Yes,” I said, “I understand,” and then we turned, setting off in two different directions, me to my death- presumably- and Julianna to her bed chambers- again, presumably. It was a long walk to the royal drawing room at the opposite end of Hollind House, but perhaps it suited my situation. It provided me time to think of what I was to say to convince Father not to punish Liam too severely, nor myself for that matter. As for Cassius, I had no preference.

I arrived at the wooden doors, two guards standing aside it, and I offered them a small smile as I knocked heavily on a panel. The thumps echoed in the empty halls, and I listened in an anxious matter as footsteps crossed the floor inside the chamber, eventually ceasing as a figure opened the door.

“Louis.” It was my father. “How are you?” he asked, concerned expression on his face. “Come, my son,” he said, and drew me into an embrace.

I was… taken aback, in every aspect of the term. My father had not been so openly affectionate to me since my young days of childhood, and certainly not in times recent.

His arms circled around me in a vice, his large, occasionally intimidating frame wrapping me comfortingly. I wrapped my arms around his middle at a slow, careful pace, wary of what was to come despite his current actions.

“I am fine, Father,” I insisted, “Nothing if not a little sore.”

My father pulled away, his hands coming up to cup my face, eyes lingering on my nose. “You scared me, my son. I feared for your health- I have not since you were born.”

It was a time in my life that may have justified my father’s protective demeanor as I grew. My mother delivered early- very early, dangerously early- and I had not been an easy baby to nurture. As my mother told it, I cried for all hours of the day, and when I was not crying I was lethargic and sickly.

A defining time in any child and parent’s life had turned into something of a nightmare for many.

“I am alright, Father- I came here to explain what happened in the dining hall.”

Defying my expectations, my father’s demeanor did not harden towards me, instead becoming a fierce, unbreakable manner only when he turned to face Liam and Cassius.

“I have been informed of these alpha’s actions, but I have yet to be informed of any justification for what has happened.” He spat the last few words at Cassius in particular, who was still possessed his bloodied clothes and face and appeared nervous at what was to come. As was I.

“There is very little I or anyone may say to defend Cassius’ actions, but with all respect, Duke Tomlinson, my deeds were done in defense of your son and his honor.” Liam too was still bloodied, and speculation was the only course of action to take in order to try and comprehend how Zayn had felt at his alpha being struck. It could not have been a grand experience for him.

“Ah, yes,” Father smiled a terrifying grin, “‘To defend my son and his honor.’ I beg of you, Liam and Cassius, tell me just what was exchanged between Louis and Cassius to warrant such a defense as a physical altercation in my dining hall.”

Both alphas looked at me, Liam expecting and Cassius pleading. He didn’t want me to do it. He didn’t want me to tell my father of the threat he had gifted upon me.

I hesitated, but my hesitation was short-lived. Earlier I had said that Cassius deserved no pardoning for his actions, and I had not said it lightly.

I looked Cassius dead in the eye as I spoke. “An accident took place- a maid had not seen Cassius, for she was carrying more dishes than she could see past, and they were dropped. Shattered.” My father nodded. “Cassius took to screaming at her, saying abhorrent, inexcusable things, and I intervened.”

“What did you say?” my father asked, though it was not reproachful as I feared it may have been after his many recent proclamations of my needing to hold my tongue.

“I told of the fact that he had no respect for this kingdom nor the people within its walls, nor you or myself, and-”

“Honestly, Duke Tomlinson,” Cassius interrupted, “Are you to take the word of an omega over-”

“Cassius,” my father’s tone was deadly, “The solid ground you think you tread is nothing more than ice. From everything I’ve seen of you, what the omega you speak of- my _son_ \- has said does not stray from my expectations.”

Cassius’ glare was hard, his hands clenched by his sides, but he remained silent.

“Continue, Louis,” my father coaxed, and I held furious eye contact with Cassius before going on.

“My views on Cassius’ character was not received well,” I said.

“He threatened Louis, Duke Tomlinson,” Liam interjected quietly, and the room fell into a silence reminiscent of the one that had filled the dining hall earlier in the day.

“Forgive me, Liam,” my father said, shaking his head, “Surely I misheard you, for what I believe you said was that my son was threatened, in my kingdom, by a _visitor_ who possesses little room for error.”

“Believe my sincerity when I say I wish I was mistaken as well.”

I had never seen my father shake with rage before, but today had been filled with many other firsts as well.

“Cassius,” he paused to release part of the growl that was steadily building, “Do not doubt me when I say that I shall ruin you. You kingdom shall suffer,” he spat, “I will make it my life’s goal to ruin all alliances you possess. I shall contact that Horans of Turbinary to convince them to terminate the courting between you and their son, Niall. I shall run Haniston dry of all resources they import from other kingdoms. I promise all of this unto you, Cassius, and more, for not only have you threatened my son, not only have you struck my son- no matter the accident you proclaimed it to be- no matter what feeble excuses you may possess, nothing will ever come close to the burning flames of anger I hold, and only when they burn out or I take my last breath shall your suffering end.”

 

…

 

I sat alone on the steps of the marble pavillion, fingers playing with beads on my bodice, trying to find some comfort in myself. Cassius had been escorted out of Hollind House as soon as his family arrived, my father turning them all away and sending them back to Haniston before his parents could be properly greeted. The extravagance the servants had seen out all day had been pointless; the Winthrops were never to step foot in Hollind again.

Liam had gone to Zayn’s bedchambers when all us four had left my father’s drawing room, all intentions of subtlety lost in a frenzy of going to his omega. My father had either failed to notice in his rage or had not cared.

I had wanted nothing more than to be alone after the events of the day. Everything had gone so terribly- what had happened to the peace of the quiet morning in which I read my novel alone in my bedroom, slices of bread and pastries as my only companions?

I had many regrets in my life, but nearly all of my actions today had most certainly taken the top positions on my list.

I looked up from my dress when something caught my attention at the corner of my eye, and it could not be decided whether or not I was surprised at whom I saw standing there.

Harry.

I stood, fluffing out the layers of my dress and dusting it off. “May I help you, Lord Harry?”

“Formalities are hardly necessary,” he remarked with a half hearted smile, and I did not bother attempting to reciprocate it. I was not in the proper mood to care for such trivial things.

“May I help you, _Harry?_ ”

“You have already helped me- I was looking for you.”

I crossed my arms across my chest. “If you can forgive my bluntness, I would very much appreciate being left alone right now.”

Harry hesitated; torn between granting my wishes and saying what he came here to. He decided upon the latter.

“I… I wanted to know how you are doing, Louis. Your father informed me of what happened with Cassius.” He shook his head a little to himself then, the expression on his face foreign to me.

I was uninclined to give anything without gaining something in return in that moment.

“If I am to give the answer to your inquiry, then you must give one to one of mine,” I insisted, and Harry nodded, to my great surprise.

“And what is your inquiry?”

I cocked my head to the side. “Why do you act so peculiarly?”

He laughed. “That was… unexpected, Louis, in all transparency.”

I pressed on, undeterred. “When you arrived, you did not speak to me. You did not speak a single word, not even to my father. You were silent for the worth of a day. And you did not intervene today between Liam and Cassius, though you are well acquainted with them both.” Harry opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand. “You follow my father’s orders blindly,” I continued, “Taking care of me when you do not know me, when you are nothing more of an experienced alpha than I am an experienced omega. And then you… touch me and speak rudely, but are acting with supposedly the purest of intentions that I will not deny I doubt. Yet despite our previous exchange, you then come here, searching for me. So I ask you, Harry, why?”

Nothing was said for a moment. Then there was a break in the silence, like a wave coming down gently on a shore.

“I came to Hollind with no more intentions than winning your father’s favor, Louis, I will not deny. I was instructed by my father to craft an alliance and contract on behalf of my kingdom, and there was little else that captured my interest. I was silent because I had nothing to say. I did not intervene between Cassius and Liam because I knew doing so would not benefit me with your father. I followed his orders because I wished they would put me in his graces,” he paused, catching his breath. “I came here, Louis,” he continued, “Because I felt guilty. In your physician’s room it had felt as though you had seen right through me, as though you had already known all of my intentions and how interest occupied I was. I wanted to apologize, attempt some time of reconciliation-”

“Ah.” Now I understood. “You wish to clear the air between as to keep any damaging words I may possess out of my father’s ear.”

Harry immediately shook his head. “No, you are misunderstanding-”

“Do not bother, Harry,” I waved off, “The damage is done- you should not have come here to find me.”


	3. Infirmed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis is met with an unexpected fate after recent events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y’all. Just as a general rule: bold & italicized names along with a - - - mark the beginning and end of personal character narrations, and ... marks the switches from character conversations to another.  
> Phia

**_Louis_ **

It was as though I’d had a curse set upon me.

First, Cassius and Harry had descended upon my home, and then every dreadful, unbecoming event had followed in their wake. The very morning after Cassius returned to Haniston with the rest of the Winthrops, I awoke with itching skin, face flushed. I thought little of it- chalking it up to my body, perhaps, having a tangible reaction to the overwhelming stress I’d been under so recently- and tried to go about the rest of my day.

“My Lord,” Theodora had gently broached, “You are… pin-pricked red, it looks, all over your back.” She’d been helping me dress in the early morning while rain pelted the at the windows, candles the only source of light in my bed chamber, their feeble shadows being strewn across my bare back and legs.

“Theodora, I thank you for your diligence, I do, but I feel a mess. If we could just dress so I can continue down to breakfast, I would appreciate it greatly.”

There’d been a small puff of breath from Theodora against my bare skin, and it in itself felt like an icicle from the garden trees during winter gliding down my spine. I said nothing, convincing myself I had caught a simple chill from my time spent outside with Liam and Zayn and, very sparingly, Harry. The frost months were coming, and I needed to start being more careful with my clothing outdoors.

My father was in his drawing room with his advisors as he was most mornings, but today was one of the rare days in which my mother wanted all of her children with her when she ate in the dining hall. Most early hours Penelope, and sometimes Julianna, joined her, but I hardly ever did. Mornings were unenjoyable enough to me, and the most painless way for me to spend them was in solitude- or with Theodora at the very most. Mother and Father tended to graciously understand such a trait within their son.

I was midway down the hall towards the staircase when my vision began to swim.

It was no cause for much alarm, but in precaution I reached my hands out for a wall with which to steady myself. Before my fingers could dust anything, however, my knees buckled, sending me sprawling out, white dress fanning out around me like a halo of sorts.

“Lord Louis!” was the call that came from many directions. Heavens, I thought, maybe I was having some weak joints from my fainting spell yesterday- could I have rattled my brain but had the effects postponed until now? I’d never heard of such a thing happening.

I- thankfully- landed on my side, arm swinging out forward to catch my head in its elbow, saving me from yet another introduction with the floor face first, but even the impact of my skull with my arm was disconcerting. I felt shaky despite lying down, and my thoughts were muddled, almost muted.

“My Lord, may I help you?”

I lifted my head slightly off my arm, wincing at the sudden dancing light around me, locking blurry eyes with one Marquess Harry. We hadn’t had the most pleasant conversations as of yesterday, and I had absolutely no recollection of seeing him walking down the same hallway I’d been when I fell. He was here though, and steady on his feet if nothing else, and I was in desperate need of someone I’d be able to lean on if I were to stand. I was not feeling especially confident in my balance or degree of clear-headedness, as of that moment.

I tried to nod, but the muscles within my neck felt no stronger than that of the limp tree branch of a young sapling. Harry appeared to understand regardless, reaching down with hands coming to grip my waist, pulling me up to my feet.

“Are you able to stand?” he asked, and I swayed in his hold, unsure of my capabilities. “I will catch you if you are to fall,” he promised as I tilted my gaze to my feet, my shoes coming in and out of focus. What had Harry said?

He removed his hands from me quickly, and I slumped forward just as fast, world around me spinning despite Harry clutching me to his chest. The lace of my high neckline was positively burning where it graced my skin, but when I tried to move my shoulder upwards to alleviate the tension in the area I found I was unable.

The only reason I hadn't returned to my place on the floor was Harry’s grip on my waist beneath my limp arms. He swung me sideways, as though I weighed not that of a feather, until he held me against his chest like a small child, my feet no longer touching the floor. He had my back resting upon one of his forearms and his other was under the layers of fabric beneath my knees. He covered my forehead with a freezing hand; I flinched from the sensation.

“He’s aflame,” Harry announced, and when he took his hand from my face my head promptly lolled back, mouth dropping open and eyes closing. Lord, I certainly did _feel_ aflame. My skin was on fire, my mouth dry and tongue feeling quite… large. I knew it was sticking from my mouth, but I couldn’t bring myself to close my lips.

“I’m to take him to the infirmary; someone tell the Duke and Duchess of what’s happened.” I felt Harry shift me around in his arms, testing my weight on his forearms, before walking down the corridor with long strides that should have bounced me like a carriage but were instead smooth as treading water.

“Send someone for the doctor.” Harry stopped, turning slightly to yell over his shoulder at the crowd of people who still loitered in the hall.

I heard a faint, “Of course, my Lord,” and then footsteps in the opposite direction to us before Harry began his long strides again.

Our traversing of the halls was quiet with the exception of some sort of groaning, as though an omega in labor was just yonder. It was full minutes before I took notice that those noises were coming from _myself_.

“You will be alright, Louis, I shall make sure of it.”

But as much as Harry was helping me in this moment, there was little to be done for the newly impending ache in my jaw and swell in my throat, my itching skin, my boiling blood. I needed Dr. Blakewell, and my handmaid, and my Zayn, and my Liam, and my own bed, not an alpha I didn’t especially like and a hard infirmary cot.

Harry and I had not paused at the door to Dr. Blakewell’s room for more than a breath before we were swarmed on all sides.

“Oh! My son- what is wrong with my son?” was my frantic mother.

“What’s happened, Lord Harry? A maid ran to the dining hall shouting about Lord Louis.” Theodora. I should have taken her cautious words with far more seriousness this morning.

My brain felt cloudy and timetables shifted, like I missed little bits and pieces of time only to have those slots filled with hours of silence. The words that were spoken in the time I did not lose flew through my head too quickly to keep track of, yet some still strung themselves together one after another.

“Collapsed in the hallway…a raging fever.”

“Spots of red dotting…”

“...seen it upon him…”

“Everyone must leave…too dangerous… contagious.”

“He is… it’s bad…”

“Sydenham’s virus...”

“...decimated the city of Carnegie...”

“A death sentence…”

In the flickers of time that were not nothing in my head, I was able to understand that I was laid upon a cot, dress removed from my sweaty skin by clammy hands; not but that one pair of freezing hands touching me all the while. Sometimes a wet cloth was placed on my forehead, and others my skin was scrubbed with a soap that left me feeling dirtier than before. There were gaps in my memory that I would never be able to fill, no matter how hard I tried to focus on what was happening around me, to me, and it left me feeling a particular kind of vulnerable I’d never experienced before.

The last thing I heard was an opening of the wooden door, bouncing off the wall as it went, and Dr. Blakewell’s voice saying two words that I doubted I would forget in any time near.

“Scarlet fever.”

 

\- - -

 

“How is he?”

“He probably won’t be playing croquet any time near, if it’s any indication.”

“ _Liam_.”

“Harry.”

“I just wanted if he has gotten much worse.”

“I… I know. Forgive me, old friend, I’m afraid that Lord Zayn hasn’t been emotionally well since Louis fell under, and it puts me on far too narrow an edge to walk. Our companionship is odd in such a sense, you could argue.”

“Please, Liam, I know of the stress the entirety of Hollind has been under as of Louis falling ill, especially Louis’ friends, but do not play me for a fool.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You speak of the relationship between Lord Zayn and yourself platonically, and I have yet to meet the omega, but your eyes have always told a different story. Does Louis know?”

“He… was the first to know.”

“I see.”

“You cannot tell anyone; we’d never see each other again, should our parents find out.”

“Consider me sworn to keeping your confidence.”

 

…

 

“When was the first time you noticed the spots?”

“Pardon my annoyance, but I’ve repeated myself to the Duke and Duchess and hoards of Lords and Ladies far more than I think necessary.”  

“Yes, I’d say so, but it is to be expected- you are Louis’ personal handmaid. You are detrimental to the inner working of Louis’ life. Heavens, even his betrothed and closest companion had not noticed any alarming behavior before he collapsed, yet you spoke out about spots. When did you notice them?”

“Yesterday morning, as I was dressing him for breakfast with Duchess Tomlinson and his sisters.”

“It’s unexplainable.”

“What is?”

“Scarlatina does not progress so quickly as to the point it did… he lost control of his extremities, his consciousness, and his body flamed with fever within the span of mere minutes- had he been especially warm when you dressed him?”

“Not to the touch, no.”

“It doesn’t- it should have taken weeks to get to such a serious point.”

“Forgive me, Doctor- I am not trained as you are, but I’ve never heard of someone with scarlet fever being unable to move or collapsing in the way Louis did. It seems fairly extreme.”

“Neither have I. It’s unprecedented.”

 

…

 

“It has been _weeks_ \- when will my son recover? My family is in turmoil, grieving as though he is already in his grave, and you’ve done nothing to make it untrue!”

“With all respect, I assure, this is not as simple as it appears. There are no definitives for scarlet fever yet; textbooks and journals mention it scarcely, if at all. We can only treat on hypotheses.”

“Hypotheses are not good enough!”

“Duke Tomlinson, I understand your anger, but hear what I am to say. There is a theory physicians to the east have been working under when it comes to post-scarlatina; it is the only lead we may be able to follow, and time is ever of the essence when it applies to your son’s wellbeing.”

“Theory- what is their theory?”

“If treated too late or inadequately- the latter is not the case here, I swear upon my life- they think that a second illness can set in, one far more dangerous.”

“What is it?”

“There is no title as of yet; it is still just a theory.”

“Does it fit my son’s symptoms?”

“In certain senses, my Duke, but I have to say that even the diagnosis of scarlet fever is one that loosely fits Lord Louis.”

“How do you mean?”

“This theoretical disease is to bring fatigue, unconsciousness, and sometimes extreme pain or weakness in the joints and extremities, but what you must understand is that it should all be _secondary_. Lord Louis had these symptoms while he still had his scarlet rash, while he still had the dotted tongue and swollen neck.”

“It… none of this makes sense.”

“I’m afraid I ride the same stallion you do, but you must decide upon a course of action for the ailments your son is still plagued by.”

“What is your recommendation?”

“The only possibility of explanation is the theoretical disease we’ve spoken of.”

“Then… treat it as such.”

“Are you quite sure, Duke Tomlinson? Should we treat it incorrectly, the consequrnces could be devastating.”

“I... am.”

 

…

 

“I am a terrible sister.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Three weeks, Louis has already lost! You and Father are out, scouring neighboring cities and kingdoms each day, knocking on the door of physicians like lowly peasants, doing everything you must to help him. I have sat at home, wallowing in my own sadness.”

“Penelope, I go with Father to look for answers so my thoughts remain soundly occupied, so I am unable to think of how our brother is lying in a hospital bed, comatose, showing no signs of recovering. I _wish_ I could allow myself to feel the pain as everyone else, but I would not be able to function if I did. I would be confined to my bed, to my own pain, and I will never be strong enough to handle such a thing.”

“I would do anything, no matter the cost, if it meant Louis were to get out of that goddamn infirmary bed.”

“ _Penny_. You never curse.”

“I find, at the near loss of our brother, I have been acting strangely.”

“Me as well, I think. Me as well.”

 

…

 

“Duke and Duchess Tomlinson, it is a pleasure to have returned to your kingdom.”

“Lord Harry, I must say that while your presence is very welcome in Hollind, I am baffled why you chose to visit at such a time. The contract was officiated over four weeks ago; there’s no need for your return.”

“Yes, but I was… the Paynes of Grenich have been a longtime ally of Illveys, and I have known Lord Liam much of my life. It pains me to see him hurting so severely after Lord Louis’ infirmization, and I was hoping my return might allow him to ease some of his burden unto me. He has yet to leave your estate since Lord Louis fell ill, isn’t that correct?”

“Yes. He was to escort Lord Zayn home to Varvick on his way back to Grenich less than a week after the ball, but once Louis was placed under Dr. Blakewell’s care, his and Zayn’s refusal to leave was non-negotiable. Duke and Duchess Malik of Varvick, however, insisted that Zayn return home as of two weeks ago, and Liam has seemed ever more ravaged and desolate ever since.”

“Yes. I’d imagine being without both of your closest companions in such a situation would be quite worthy of those descriptors.”

“Indeed.”

“May I… may I see Lord Louis, Duke and Duchess Tomlinson? He has passed the stage of containment and contagion, hasn’t he?”

“Might I ask your intentions?”

“I know that your family and staff are surely giving Lord Louis the most comfort possible, but I’ve found that people are often able to tell when they have a change in company, even if they’re in such a state as your son’s.”

“You wish to comfort him?”

“I came to comfort Lord Liam- and I will follow through on my intentions- but as I stand here now, I believe Lord Louis to be a more worthy recipient of anything I can offer.”

“Through the past month, Harry, you have more than earned my trust, and as a show of such faith I give you my blessing to bring comfort to my son. I shall even allow you to do it in a setting in which you two are alone. But be cautioned, and know that if you take advantage of him in his vulnerable state I will not hesitate to end your life- no matter the consequences.”

“I understand; I expected nothing less. Is he still in the infirmary?”

“No. We... upon recent developments, we fear this week will be his last and have moved him back to his bedchambers as of yesterday. I wish him to be in his most familiar place in his final moments.”

“Might I ask why, Duchess Tomlinson?”

“It has been difficult to let him receive the nutrition he needs. Though his scarlet fever symptoms have been eradicated, his state of unconsciousness has remained, and for the past several weeks we’ve been forcing small portions of soft food and water down his throat. His jaw seized yesterday though, clamping completely shut, and we’ve yet to know what to do. He will literally starve within the week, or die of thirst, should his jaw not open.”

 

…

 

“Should he relieve himself, please get a member of the house staff immediately, Lord Harry.”

“Relieve himself?”

“In his state, he cannot control his bladder, I’m afraid. Whenever the pressure to empty itself comes, he urinates.”

“I see.”

“Should it happen, we will change him from his clothes and bed sheets as quickly as we are able, I assure, so you will be able to resume your company with him in peace.”

“Thank you. I offer my appreciations, on behalf of both myself and Lord Louis.”

“It’s not but my duty, my Lord. I’ll leave you two in solitude.”

 

\- - -

 

**_Harry_ **

During my visit with Liam on the day in which I arrived, just yesterday, he’d told me of how horrendous Louis looked. When I first went inside his bedchambers, the memories of Liam’s testimonies about his haunting appearance were branded into my thoughts, and I found I was not prepared to look at him yet.

His bedchambers were large- as were all on Hollind’s estate, I’d discovered- and when I entered I was assaulted with books. On all of the six walls that made up the hexagonal room were shelves of them, and on the floor were more. Bending over, purposely prolonging my avoidance of peering at the bed to my right, I picked up one of the novels.

 _The Fatal Marriage_ , Thomas Southerne.

A page in the midst of the book was folded at the edge, marking his place, and while I’d come into Louis’ room with no plan for my comfort, I now had one. I would read to him- anything if it gave me an excuse not to be confronted with his ill figure.

There was a chair beside his bed, plush and with practically protruding cushions, the indent of whomever had been last sat here imprinted in the fabric.

“He’s never left alone,” Liam had said yesterday, “Someone is always with him, usually his parents, hardly his sisters. Someone is always sitting with him though, speaking with him.”

Today that person was me.

I sat myself down, opening to Louis’ page, mouth opening to speak the first words that I kept my gaze carefully trained upon, but something stopped me. It was an unsettling feeling, and I was uncertain of its cause. Something was wrong, it screamed, and I was overcome with an instinct to touch the person beside me that I still had yet to look at.

It was unignorable though, this compulsion to just reach out a hand and… touch his skin. I succumbed.

I slowly turned my gaze to my right, where I could just see his pale arm resting over the blankets that covered the rest of him. Just that single hand, merely five fingers and some flesh, had a sickly appearance to it. I slid my hand quietly onto his bed, over to his, fingertips hovering, not even dusting the skin yet.

 _Touch him_ , was what my instincts commanded, _touch him_.

I slid my fingers between his.

He was freezing, something that did not surprise me, but that- along with other new traits- did indeed deeply unsettle me. When I’d carried him to Dr. Blakewell’s room- both the time in which he fainted and the time in which he collapsed- he’d been so warm, so soft, so devoid of sharp edges. He was much now thin, bony almost, and cold. Perpetually cold, it seemed.

Oh, how one month had changed him. Changed us all, maybe.

I had to look away from our entwined hands not long after I grasped him. I didn’t think of where that overwhelming urge to touch him had come from, and did not let myself dwell upon anything I wanted to.

I began to read.

The words meant little to me, coming into the story as late as I was, but feeling less and less the coldness of Louis’ hand as my own warmed it meant everything.

I hadn’t felt an especially strong connection to him in our scarce time spent together before he fell ill, but I did leave Hollind with a terrible guilt. I didn’t know if Louis had any recollection of what had happened in the hallway after he collapsed, and that meant that his last memories of me were what had taken place in the garden, and in Dr. Blakewell’s room when he’d fainted.

I was confronted with the idea of him having an irrevocable opinion of me, one that I deeply desired to make amends for, yet would not be able to. The concept made me shockingly and overwhelmingly guilt ridden.

Sitting here, holding his hand when I was so well aware of his distaste for me, made me feel almost guiltier yet. Louis would’ve never let this happen, had he been awake.

Focusing on the words was far more difficult than I’d assumed it would be.

With every sniffle, slightest movement, change in breath from the person beside me, I broke concentration, stopping to assure he was fine. The first time I’d instinctively looked at his face, I’d had to stop and nearly close the book as I took in the severity of his features.

His cheeks had sunken in, carving out the sharper bones of his skull, making him look much older than his seventeen body should’ve, and his chapped lips were firmly closed, nose flaring every time he took air in. Each of his wheezing breaths rattled something within me, and I felt bile rise in my throat more than once when the silence of the room made his breathing far too colorful. The ghostly pale of his skin seemed a fitting complement to his shallow breathing, his eyelids the only actual color-bearing feature on his face- a dastardly purple shade.

That’s how it went on for a while.

I would read without truly reading, he would do something to put my senses on high alert, and I would pause to just stare at him a moment. Just stare. Then I’d tear my gaze away, letting my mouth form meaningless words while I tried not to revel in the feeling of his hand in mine.

The space between my fingers and the back cover became less and less with each turning page until eventually, I found us one chapter from the end.

“I hope that if you haven’t been listening,” I spoke to no one actually present, “You will read the rest of this yourself when you’ve recovered. It seems as though it’d be something you’d like.”

I allowed a few seconds for a possible response until I decided against it, assuming that making myself crazy by waiting for a reply from someone in a coma would do no one any good. Not myself, and certainly not Louis.

“So, chapter five-”

“Lord Harry?”

I turned around, offering no verbal reply, staring at the shadow of a figure in the doorway. A young woman stepped into view from behind the large wooden door, someone I wasn’t particularly familiar with but knew to be one of Louis’ sisters. Which one, though?

“Dinner is finished being prepared; Mother sent a servant to tell you, but I… intercepted the task.”

Clara. That’s the one.

I nodded once in appreciation, and she smiled back cautiously. “May I ask you something, Lord Harry?” she asked.

Neither her nor myself were confident I would give her any answer, I was fairly certain, and under normal circumstances I probably would’ve outright denied her. However, these were not normal circumstances- her brother was in a coma, and she was going through sufficient pain without me being stubbornly anti-social.

I nodded once more at her, and she walked completely into the room, door shutting behind her.

“My parents are wonderful, strong people, I assure,” she was speaking very quickly, “But they also like to shield us. We are not blind to the workings of the world, Lord, yet they keep us from all pain they can.” She took in a hardy breath. “I fear they have not been upfront with my sisters and I about the severity of Louis’ condition.”

Upfront?  
“My- we’re discouraged from coming here, you know. My parents say it will only haunt us to see our brother in such a state, and that when he is no longer ridden with illness, all we will be able to see is his disease of now. This is the first time I’ve been allowed in here in nearly a fortnight.” She stepped forward a step or two, gaze falling upon Louis beside me. I kept my eyes on her as her words hung between us, somber and upset.

“Julianna is good with medicine,” she continued, eyes earnest and unafraid as they returned to meet my gaze- interesting for an omega, “She’s very smart and very capable, but even she does not know more than we can see with our plain eyes. And what we’re seeing is not complementary to what our parents are saying.”

“What do you want from me?” I tried to be gentle, tried to be courteous, but my voice sounded neither, instead devoid of anything and everything.

“I want to know what they’ve told you, if anything. I want to know if my brother is on his deathbed while my parents assure my sisters and I that he’s on the very brink of recovery.”

Oh, heavens. These poor Tomlinson sisters.

“I have been in your kingdom two days, my Lady, the first of which was spent with my old companion. I have been sat with Lord Louis for not but a few hours,” I shook my head, and Clara’s eyes fell downcast in disappointment, “That being said,” I countered, “Your brother’s condition deeply concerns me. _Deeply_ concerns me.”

She nodded in acceptance, something like sadness yet not surprise evident upon her face, as she turned to leave, hand gripping the doorknob.

“Will you be joining us for dinner?”

“I do not think so, if you don’t think it terribly rude.”

She shook her head. “Though they may act sturdy and overbearing, they are grateful you’re here for Louis. They would not be opposed to you missing dinner should you be here instead.”

I turned back to Louis when she’d left, gazing upon his stressed body- hidden under layers of blankets- until my eyes landed upon our hands, still entwined over the covers.

Clara had seen it- undoubtedly, she had seen me holding her brother’s hand. It was unbecoming, an alpha touching an unconscious omega, especially when that omega was betrothed to someone else. Especially when the parents of that omega had given that alpha their trust, their confidence, but not their permission for such an act.

She hadn’t spoken of it though, and I had little doubt she wouldn’t tell the Duke and Duchess; after all, she wasn’t supposed to be in Louis’ room anyway.

 

\- - -

 

“Lord Niall, you’re possessing of a gown fitting for a funeral, are you not?”

“I am. Should I be in need of one in the near future?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Who’s died?”

“Lord Louis Tomlinson of Hollind.”

 

…

 

“Zayn, heavens, please- my- Zayn, _stop_!”

“How could you be so heartless? How could you be so heartless as to tear me from my closest companion in his last weeks? Would it not have done any harm to let me be with him, to hold him, to comfort him? To receive closure? How dare you deprive me of such things!”

“My son, had we known he was going to pass so soon we’d never have ordered you return home.”

“But you did. And now Louis is dead.”

“I am so sorry.”

“Apologies fix nothing, Father. This is not a wrong meaningless words can right.”

 

…

 

“Gabriel!”

“Yes, Duke?”

“Why am I receiving letters of condolences?”

“I… do not know, I’m afraid.”

“Read one aloud to me.”

“Of course. ‘The Gregors of Kastin would like to offer their sincerest condolences upon… upon-’”

“Upon what?”

“Upon the passing of your son, Lord Louis William Morris Tomlinson.”  

“ _Pardon me_?”

“It- forgive me, Duke Harrison, just a moment. Ah- yes, yes, this one says the same. ‘The Horans of Turbinary offer their sincerest condolences upon learning of the death of Lord Louis W. M. Tomlinson, and pray on behalf of your family in this somber time.’”

“What… in God’s name are people speaking of? My son is alive- he’s two floors above us right now, with Lord Harry of Illveys.”

“I do not know how to explain it, my Duke, I apologize.”

“We have not… there has been no official statement given, no funeral scheduled, no invitations sent- how could anyone have gotten wind of such an atrocious lie?”

“There has been little secrecy surrounding Lord Louis’ infirmization.”

“Of course- we could not risk anyone else’s life by being so selfish as to keep the details of Louis’ illness a secret. We thought that perhaps letting the public be knowledgeable of his sickness and our treatments could help another.”

“And it was very noble to do such a thing, my Duke, but perhaps someone misconstrued what your releasing of such details meant and began spreading the word that Lord Louis had died.”

“Preposterous. No one I am well acquainted with would be daft enough to do such a thing without speaking privately to myself and the Duchess first.”

“Perhaps… perhaps it was someone you are not so well acquainted with.”

“Who do you refer to?”

“Possibly, and I mean no ill will, the Styles of Illveys? Or the Winthrops of Haniston?”

“The Marquess of Illveys is with my son this moment.”

“Yes, my Duke.”

“Bring him to me.”

 

\- - -

 

**_Harry_ **

“Duke and Duchess Tomlinson, hello. Might I ask why I’ve been summoned to your throne room?”

I was stood before them, both the Duke and Duchess sitting in massive copper and jeweled chairs, raised on a platform.

“Our son is alive upstairs, is he not?” The Duke had a cold look on his face, distaste evident that I had never seen directed towards me before.

“Of course. I was just with him; he was breathing fine.” What could this possibly be about?

The Duchess waved a hand at someone behind me, and a man I’d often seen beside the Duke came forward, letters in hand. It was his personal valet, the very highest rank of servant to any royalty and nobility.

“Please, Harry, read these aloud, if you could be so kind.”

The letters were held out to me from the stout man- Gabriel, is how I’d heard him once referred to- and I took them, flipping through them briefly, becoming increasingly wary at what I saw upon the envelopes.

“Duke, Duchess, these are your… _personal_ letters. Letters of condolences.”

“We are aware.”

“And you wish me to read them?”

“Might we need to ask you again, Harry?”

“No,” I shook my head; this situation was turbulent enough already, I was well aware, without me denying them a request. I cleared my throat, peering down at the paper in my hand. “‘The Maliks of Varvick would like to give their sincerest apologies to the entire Tomlinson family on behalf of the-” I read, but the next words stopped me with the words dead on my tongue.

“On behalf of what?” There was a knowing tone to the Duke’s voice.

“‘On behalf of the death of Lord Louis Tomlinson.’” My blood ran cold, speaking such blasphemy. “I… I do not understand.”

“Read the next.”

I wanted to argue, wanted to insist they tell me why a letter speaking of Louis’ death was in my hand, but I did not. I put away the Malik’s letter, pulling a new one out of a glossily embossed envelope.

“‘The Dawsons of Tessier give their most heartfelt apologies to the Duke and Duchess of Hollind, along with their three children, upon the notification of Lord Louis William Tomlinson’s death.’”

“Next,” was his command.

I swallowed shallowly, flipping to the next letter. “‘The Petersens of Harpersby would like to offer their condolences-’”

“Next.”

I opened a new envelope. “‘The Bodens of Palimorny offer their deepest sorries in response to the news of-’”

“Next.”

Another. “The Neumanns of Keifer send the Tomlinsons of-”

“Next.”

I paused then, staring down at the familiar parchment and post in my hand. On the envelope was a cracked seal of white candle wax with the crest of the Duke and Duchess of Illveys stamped into is, the wax coming from the candle to the left of the desk in my father’s study, I was well aware. I cleared my throat, trying to read clearly the first words on the page. “The… Styles of Illveys…’”

“Unable to continue?” And, in a moment of weakness and shock, I nodded. I could not read such things. “You’re aware of how painful this was for you, yes?” I nodded again at the Duke’s words. “So you can imagine the horror and agony this caused the Duchess and I when we had to sit and read such things prematurely about our son.”

I did not know what to say.

“We are unbearably confused as to just where this horrific rumour originated, but we have our suspicions.”

I raised my gaze from the letters I still peered at. The Duke and Duchess were staring right at me.

 _What_?

“You suspect it is me?”

They offered nothing but stoic silence, a response that was usually my own.

“Duke, Duchess, what could I have to gain from blaspheming to such a degree? I’ve been sat with your son for hours now, just reading to him, and it’s broken _me_ to see him so broken when only weeks ago we’d been having…  excursions with Lords Liam and Cassius.”

They simply stared at me until eventually, quietly, deadly, Duke Tomlinson spoke.

“Have we not just recently struck a deal?”

“Yes, of course.” Was that not the reason for my trip to Hollind a month ago?

“Do the parameters of that contract not state that, should one of the parties be removed from power, there be a complete shift of profit to the remaining kingdom?”

Oh, no.

“And does the public spreading of a lie that would purposely change the course of hierarchy not seem a punishable offense?”

This was dangerous game we’d been thrown into suddenly.

“See, Marquess,” the Duke charged onward, “It seems likely- does it not- that should you wish to gain all profits from the Hollind-Illveys alliance, you could easily take advantage of the coincidence of my son’s infirmization to spread word that he’s died when he has not, to make my family it appear corrupt?”

It sounded like insanity, it did, but far more insane things had happened when it came to seizing the throne or contractual profits from a family of nobility.

There had been an overhaul as of late, per se, since the new queen had taken power. Her predecessor had been notoriously lenient upon his decently ranked nobility- especially the Dukes, Duchesses, Lords and Ladies- but the new queen left no kingdom unscrutinized. No one was above the law in her eyes, not the rich, not the powerful, not the poor, not the weak. Everyone was of equal responsibility to conform to the laws.

In her past year in power, she’d removed two families of royalty from power- with fair reason- and replaced them with uncorrupt, considerably balance-minded individuals. Father and Mother never had any bad words to speak of her, and in turn, neither did I.

However, with her overhaul came certain dangers within situations like this.

Louis’s death would alter the order of succession for the titles of Duke and Duchess in Hollind, despite him being the last of the Tomlinson children in line, which was no punishable offense _if true_. However, lying about the death of someone in order to alter the line of succession was a crime, characterized by immediate dethroning and loss of titles for everyone within the Tomlinson clan.

According to the contract Duke Tomlinson and I had signed shortly after Louis had fallen ill, as was customary in nearly all contracts of the day, all profits of our alliance in resources would be transferred to Illveys exclusively should the Duke and Duchess be dethroned.

It made me look exceptionally guilty.

“I haven’t done it, Duke, Duchess- I swear. It looks a fright, I know, but I am an alpha of honor. I respect the terms of our contract; I would never double-cross you in such a way.”

“Marquess, I would like to believe that. I truly would,” he paused to shake his head, “But I cannot.”


End file.
